Nick Thurston

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Robert Fitterman’s No, Wait. Yep. Definitely Still Hate Myself. by Nick Thurston
Eds Fittermannowait

Fitterman’s relentless, book-length new poem is composed of public articulations of loneliness harvested from online message boards.

Robert Fitterman’s No, Wait. Yep. Definitely Still Hate Myself. by Nick Thurston
Eds Fittermannowait

Fitterman’s relentless, book-length new poem is composed of public articulations of loneliness harvested from online message boards.

Pretty Brutal Speech by Nick Thurston
Agony

Nick Thurston on how Kim Rosenfield’s Lividity and Steven Zultanski’s Agony both convert the long form poem into an act of hyper-objectification, and how both do so to brutally contemporary effect.

Seeing Ian Hamilton Finlay’s Poetics by Nick Thurston

In my view, all of my work, in all of its forms, from the simplest concrete poems to the war with Strathclyde Region, has been based on an aspiration for ordered simplicity. (In such a light do I see Saint-Just and Robespierre; in such a light, equally, do I decry Danton.)

—Letter to Francis Edeline, 2 October 1988

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